Truft all to Genius, for they fcorn to pore,
Till e'en that little Genius is no more.
Knowledge in Law care only can attain,
Where honour's purchas'd at the price of pain.
If, loit'ring, up th' afcent you cease to climb,
No ftarts of labour can redeem the time.
Induftrious ftudy wins by flow degrees,
True fons of Coke can ne'er be fons at ease.
There are, whom Love of Poetry has fmit,
Who, blind to intereft, arrant dupes to wit,
Have wander'd devious in the pleafing road,
With Attic flowers and Claffic wreaths beftrew'd:
Wedded to verfe, embrac'd the Muse for life,
And ta'en, like modern bucks, their whores to wife.
Where'er the Muse ufurps defpotic fway,
All other ftudies muft of force give way,
Int'reft in vain puts in her prudent claim,
Nonfuited by the pow'rful plea of fame.
As well you might weigh lead against a feather,
As ever jumble wit and law together.
On Littleton Coke gravely thus remarks,
(Remember this, ye rhyming Temple Sparks!
"In all our author's tenures, be it noted,
"This is the fourth time any verfe is quoted."
Which, 'gainft the Mufe and verfe, may well imply
What lawyers call a noli profequi,
Quit then, dear George, O quit the barren field,
Which neither profit nor reward can yield!
What tho' the sprightly scene, well acted, draws
From unpack'd Englishmen unbrib'd applause,
Some monthly Grub, fome Dennis of the age,
In print cries fhame on the degen'rate stage *.
If haply Churchill strive with generous aim,
To fan the fparks of genius to a flame;
If all UNASK'D, UNKNOWING, AND UNKNOWN,
By noting thy defert, he prove his own;
Envy shall straight to Hamilton's repair,
And vent her spleen, and gall, and venom there,
Thee, and thy works, and all thy friends decry,
And boldly print and publish a rank lie,
Swear your own hand the flatt'ring likeness drew,
Swear your own breath fame's partial trumpet blew,
Well I remember oft your friends have said,
(Friends, whom the fureft maxims ever led)
Tum parfon, Colman, that's the way to thrive :
Your parfons are the happieft men alive.
Judges, there are but twelve, and never more,
But Stalls untold, and Bishops, twenty-four,
Of pride and claret, floth and ven'son full,
Yon prelate mark, right reverend and dull!
He ne'er, good man, need penfive vigils keep
To preach his audience once a week to sleep;
On rich preferments battens at his ease,
Nor sweats for tithes, as lawyers toil for fees.
* See the very curious and VERY SIMILAR criticisms on the comedy of the Jealous Wife, in the two Reviews, together with the most malicious and infolent attack on the writer, and the author of this Collection in the Critical Review for March; an injury poorly repaired by a lame apology in the Review for the fucceeding month, containing fresh insults on one of the injured parties.
Thus they advis'd. I know thee better far;
And cry, ftick clofe, dear Colman, to the Bar!
If genius warm thee, where can genius call
For nobler action than in yonder hall?
'Tis not enough each morn, on Term's approach,
To club your legal threepence for a coach;
Then at the Hall to take your filent stand,
With ink-horn and long note-book in your hand,
Marking grave ferjeants cite each wife report,
And noting down fage dictums from the court,
With overwhelming brow, and law-learn'd face,
The index of your book of common-place.
These are mere drudges, that can only plod,
And tread the path their dull forefathers trod,
Doom'd thro' law's maze, without a clue, to range,
From fecond Vernon down to fecond Strange.
Do Thou uplift thine eyes to happier wits!
Dulness no longer on the woolpack fits;
No longer on the drawling dronish herd
Are the first honours of the law confer'd;
But they whose fame reward's due tribute draws.
Whose active merit challenges applaufe,
Like glorious beacons, are fet high to view,
To mark the paths which genius fhould perfue.
O for thy fpirit, MANSFIELD! at thy name
What bofom glows not with an active flame?
Alone from Jargon born to rescue Law,
From precedent, grave hum, and formal faw!
To ftrip chican'ry of its vain pretence,
And marry Common Law to Common Senfe!
PRATT*! on thy lips perfuafion ever hung! English falls, pure as Manna, from thy tongue; On thy voice truth may reft, and on thy plea Unerring HENLEY + found the juft decree.
HENLEY! than whom, to HARDWICKE's wellrais'd fame,
No worthier fecond Royal GEORGE Cou'd name:
No lawyer of prerogative; no tool
Fashion'd in black corruption's pliant school;
Form'd 'twixt the People and the Crown to ftand,
And hold the fcales of right with even hand!
True to our hopes, and equal to his birth,
See, fee in YORKE‡ the force of lineal worth!
But why their fev'ral merits need I tell
Why on each honour'd fage's praifes dwell
WILMOT | how well his place, or FOSTERS fills?
Or fhrew'd fenfe beaming from the eye of WILLES ¶?
Such, while thou feest the public care engage,
Their fame increasing with increasing age,
Rais'd by true genius, bred in Phoebus' school,
Whose warmth of foul found judgment knew to cool;
* Afterwards Earl Camden.
Afterwards Earl of Northington.
Charles Yorke, Efq; fecond fon of Lord Hardwick.
Sir John Eardley Wilmot, afterwards Chief Juftice of the Common Pleas.
Sir Michael Fofter, one of the Judges of the King's Bench.
Sir John Willes, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas.
With fuch illuftrious proofs before your eyes, Think not, my friend, you've too much wit to rife. Think of the bench, the coif, long robe, and fee, And leave the Press to ********* *** ** **
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